Whose are the reflections I see!
On the lit wall,
Shadows of corpses being dragged
By children
Alike and different,
As death hung heavy like an envelope
Of cloud and smog
Lurking glances, hungry like a dog
The all pervasive fear now growing stronger,
Their tired feet unable to walk any longer.
And the world now gives a standing ovation
To the death of childhood
Strangling of realization
And the pseudo birth
Of an ill founded civilization.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is the truth, huh? The rise is the demise. I think you captured it as best one can, with the most essential focal point. I'm awestruck.